Table for Two
by laureleaf
Summary: Sam's not acting like himself: he's wearing his nicest suit and a new cologne and even put product in his hair. Eileen can't figure out why, but she'll soon find out... Part of my Saileen AU, set at some indeterminate point in the future.


A/N: Here's an explanation and an apology for the sudden decrease in updating my other stories. This fits with my "Make it Home" and "Walk a Muddy Mile in my Boots" AUs. Warnings for mild language. Based loosely on a true story ;)

* * *

"Hey Eileen, want to go to Coquelicot for dinner tonight? I'm feeling like fish."

Eileen looked at Sam incredulously. She knew for an absolute fact that the refrigerator was full of leftovers: Dean had enthusiastically broken in his new wok last night. There had been so much food that even their resident giant and and his brother the bottomless pit couldn't eat it all in one go. It wasn't like Sam to go out when there was perfectly delicious food in the Bunker that needed eating. Especially to go out to some pretentious restaurant a good 45 minute drive away.

"What's going on?" she asked suspiciously. If it was some anniversary she could understand his motivation, but she wasn't aware of any such semi-holidays right now. They hadn't ganked any big bads recently that needed celebrating either.

"Nothing," he shrugged in a very guilty manner. "Just feel like doing something different."

"Whatever," Eileen put away the book she'd been reading and headed towards their bedroom to change clothes. She'd never been to Coquelicot, but she had a feeling that she wouldn't be allowed anywhere near the door in sweats and a hopelessly stained t-shirt.

Honestly, she wanted nothing more than to stretch out on the new-to-them old couch in the lounge and ignore the world, but if it meant so much to Sam that her usually reticent lover would bring it up in the first place then she'd play along. A few weeks ago Rowena had bought her a black slinky dress. It was simple yet elegant, with a tasteful smattering of beads around the high neckline and three-quarters-length sleeves. It could be mistaken for being modest except for the thigh-high slit along one leg. Not really her style, and she wasn't exactly in the habit of taking gifts from witches, but a nice dress was a nice dress and they'd needed it for a case. She was only wearing it now because it didn't require any buttons, zippers, or laces. Easy on now, easy off later once she could be finally reunited with her sweats.

Eileen was too tired to bother shaving, revealing leg-slit be damned. Long live feminism. She was also too tired to do more than throw her hair into an excessively messy bun and slap on some mascara. All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't get her into heels tonight, even if she owned any, which she didn't. If that wasn't good enough for the fancy french snobs at their unpronounceable restaurant, too bad.

Sam looked at her like she was a goddess. Not in the 'gotta gank this bitch' way, of course. Like men were supposed to look at goddesses. Worshipfully. In awe. Eileen blushed, but enjoyed the attention nevertheless. It was good to feel beautiful and loved and appreciated, after all. Especially when she was feeling about a half-step above reheated crap.

Sam scraped his jaw up off the floor so he could press her up against the wall and kiss her thoroughly. He tasted like mint, overpoweringly so, like he'd just popped one of those breath fresheners out of a cheesy commercial. That was also odd: Sam knew she hated strong flavors like that. He'd also put on some sort of unfamiliar cologne and had put something sticky in his hair to style it. All of it was utterly unnecessary: Sam's hair was always magically perfect, even when it was a hopeless mess, and she liked his natural musk more than any perfume.

"Who are you and what have you done with Sam?" she pulled away, only half-teasing. It paid in their line of work to pay attention to small and unusual changes in behavior. There were any number of monsters that could make themselves look like anyone they wanted.

"It's me, promise," Sam held out his hands in surrender. She noted he was wearing the nicer of his two fed suits. She had to admit he did cut a dashing figure.

"Really?" she tilted her head accusingly. "Password."

"Hufflepuffs win the House Cup," Sam rolled his eyes. "Come on, Eileen. I'm not allowed to dress up and take you out to a nice dinner?"

"Sure, but only when there's a good reason for it," she challenged. It _was_ the right password, but that didn't mean much: plenty of monsters could read minds. Of course, if this really was a monster in front of her, they were royally screwed. She was pretty sure it wasn't, but paranoid hunters lived longer than trusting ones.

"Dean?" Eileen called.

The man himself appeared a few moments later, a bottle of beer in one hand and a bag of popcorn in the other. Several strands of licorice dripped from his mouth.

" _Problem?_ " he signed after transferring the food to the crooks of his elbows to free his hands. The particular sign made him look like a rather derpy T-Rex. Eileen muffled a laugh at the hilarious sight. Dean was finally getting comfortable using signs even when he didn't strictly need to, and she didn't want to discourage his progress.

"Sam's not acting like himself," Eileen pursed her lips. "Wants to take me to a fancy place for dinner, wearing different cologne, eating mints…"

Dean looked at Sam for a long minute before snorting in laughter. He took a moment to get the licorice out of his mouth so he could respond.

"Dude, I _told_ you to take it easy or you'd spook her," he shook his head in exasperation. "Eileen, my brother is a moron, but he is in fact still Sam, unfortunately. Go enjoy your nice dinner."

Eileen gave Sam another once-over, just for show. While Dean could also be potentially a monster, she doubted it. His behavior was far too normal to be a ruse. Besides, no other monster she'd met could mimic that big-brother eye-roll quite right. And no self-respecting demon would ever willingly eat licorice.

"If you say so," she acquiesced.

* * *

The ride to the restaurant was actually quite enjoyable. Sam turned on the radio loud enough for her to feel the bass, and they danced along to some of her favorite songs. Sam couldn't do more than just sway a little and tap his thumbs on the steering wheel since he was driving, but Eileen enthusiastically signed all the lyrics.

Coquelicot was a polar opposite of the usual dive bars the Winchesters usually frequented. The modern-yet-somehow-classical architecture of the facade exuded timeless class and elegance. Valet parking was _expected_ , not a perk, and all of the wait staff wore suits of a higher quality than Sam's. Even for a random Thursday night, it was reasonably crowded. Sam handed off the Impala's keys with the usual threats before going around to the other side to help her out of the car. That level of chivalry was unusual: Sam well knew Eileen was more than capable of handling herself, and didn't like unnecessary assistance. But he smiled so endearingly when he held out his hand that she easily forgave him. It felt _good_ to have her arm primly tucked in his as they glided down the red carpet with all of the predatory grace of the hunters they were. It was different from their usual hand-holding and raucous teasing, and she sort of missed Dean's off-color jokes, but it was still nice, still _them_. Just a gussied-up version for the snobs.

Sam had made a reservation, so they were seated immediately. Small lights sparkled overhead in a mimicry of stars in the dimly-lit room. The bread and olive oil was amazing, and it was more than a little difficult to not fill up on the complimentary food.

"Appetizer?" Sam asked. Would the oddities never cease? Sam never got appetizers: that was Dean's gig.

"I don't think so: I want to save room for the main course," Eileen smiled, but Sam seemed disappointed for some reason. "What's going on?" she pressed.

" _Nothing_ ," he stressed. "I just… I want to do something special. For you. Just because."

"You never to anything 'just because'," Eileen raised an eyebrow. Sam ducked guiltily.

Before he could answer, however, a waiter with a very forced accent came to take their order. Sam got the fish, while Eileen requested the only pasta dish on the menu that didn't have shellfish all over it. She couldn't understand how anyone could _enjoy_ that awful rubbery texture.

As soon as they were alone again, Sam launched into an animated discussion about the latest artifact he'd found in the Bunker library. He was a brilliant conversationalist when he put his mind to it, and Eileen enjoyed the impromptu history lesson, debate, and theorizing session all wrapped into one. The food came before they knew it.

It was _awful_.

That was something that always surprised Eileen about fancy restaurants. They cost the earth, but the portions were tiny and the food was always… weird. The meal was always arranged in some sort of abstract art-slash-architecture, and the flavors were always far too strong or far too subtle. It didn't make any sense at all.

Sam's fish was precariously balanced on a tower of rice, propped up with skewers of awkwardly-carved carrots and drenched in some unidentifiable yellow sauce. It looked disturbingly like a miniaturized version of the zombie they'd staked last week. Eileen's pasta was arranged in a geometric pattern, with all of the sauce piled to one side and a heap of crudely-cut cheese stacked on the other.

From Sam's face, the fish tasted about the same as ghost ectoplasm. Eileen's pasta was somehow crunchy and mushy at the same time, while the sauce tasted like orange juice mixed with ketchup for some ungodly reason.

"Remind me never to do this again," Sam lay his fork down with disgust. "Sorry, Eileen, I thought…"

"It's fine," she lay down her own fork. "I'm sure Dean will get a kick out of it when we tell him."

Sam huffed deprecatingly. "I'm sure he will."

"Here," Eileen offered him a piece of her mangled cheese. "It's surprisingly palatable, and the bread is good. Perhaps together they shall be edible?"

It was, and while it wasn't exactly a full meal, it was enough. Eileen tried to stave off Sam's melancholy by distracting him with some new runes she'd been researching. If her theory was correct, there was a chance to reverse the spell that destroyed the angels' wings. Their decimated ranks could certainly use some good news.

The check came, and Sam snatched it before she could. His poker face wasn't as good as he thought it was. He put down a fake credit card Eileen knew was almost blown anyway. Eileen honestly didn't feel guilty about using fake money to pay for the overpriced and underwhelming food.

To her surprise, Sam didn't drive directly back to the Bunker garage. He parked near the edge of the lake that fed the hydroelectric plant that powered the Bunker. They got out of the car to stand by the water's edge. Stars appeared one by one overhead as the sun dipped below the horizon. The water of the lake turned a myriad of reds and oranges in the fading light, almost as if the water was on fire. It was absolutely stunning. Sam was a warm and comforting presence behind her. Eileen went to pull his arms around her like a cloak, but he pulled away. She turned around to ask him why, but he wasn't where she was expecting him to be. Instead of towering a foot above her as usual, he was two feet below her, on one knee, a small box in his hands and a hopeful look on his face.

"Eileen," he bit his lip nervously. "Eileen, would you do me the honor of…"

"Yes," she gasped out, not even waiting for him to finish. "Yes, yes, yes."

And then he was standing, his hands tangling in her hair and his lips pressing against hers, and everything was _perfect_.

It was a long moment before she remembered the box and the ring inside it. She honestly hadn't even looked at it earlier.

"The diamond is from my grandmother's ring," Sam explained as she turned it over in her fingers. "It's barely half a carat and it's not flawless or anything, but…"

"It's perfect," Eileen smiled, and it was. Two bands of simple silver sandwiched the diamond between them. Decreasing sizes of round precious and semiprecious stones flanked either side. It was hard to see in the dim light, but she thought that several of them were etched with tiny runes. The inner band was also marked with a neat line of sigils.

"You can punch ghosts with it if you want: the core is iron," Sam continued. "And the silver is good against werewolves and shifters, obviously. There's a rune there that burns demons like holy water too. There's several sigils for protection and safety, and…"

Eileen put a finger on his lips to shush him. "You can tell me all about it later," she said. "The ring is lovely, and I _will_ geek out about it. Later. Right now…" she shoved the ring on her finger and kissed him thoroughly.

* * *

There was a crowd waiting for them in the library when they finally returned. Dean broke into a huge smile as soon as they walked through the door.

"About damn time, Sammy," he pulled his brother into a hug. "My condolences," he teased Eileen before pulling her into a hug of her own.

"Congratulations," Cas intoned. He held a bottle of champagne like he suspected it was going to explode unprovoked at any second.

"I'm so happy for you both!" Mary gushed.

Sam wrapped an arm protectively around her as they were quickly overwhelmed with well-wishes. Jack and Bobby were back from their latest hunt. Jody, Claire, Alex, and Patience had driven from Sioux Falls. Donna had come from Minnesota. Even Charlie had returned from parts unknown for the occasion. Garth had brought his entire family, for some reason (not that anyone minded). Even Ketch and Rowena were there, lingering rather awkwardly in the back corner. Soon beer and champagne were flowing freely as everyone mingled. It was quite the group, Eileen reflected. Not a few were from an alternate dimension, plus a witch, a psychic, an ex-vampire, two sheriffs-turned-hunters, a super-soldier-spy-turncoat, a nephilim, a pack of pacifist werewolves, and an angel and his vessel's daughter. Never mind the Winchesters themselves, who were their own special class of remarkable oddity. There was no reason why they should be here together, no reason why half of them shouldn't be dead and buried several times over. No reason except Sam and Dean.

How did some deaf orphan from backwater Ireland get to be so lucky as to gain the love of a man who had saved the planet more times than he'd ever admit?

" _Are you ok?_ " Sam signed once they'd managed to extract themselves from the crowd. " _It's a bit overwhelming, and I know my family isn't… normal. But…_ "

" _It's not such a bad thing to be overwhelmed with love_ ," Eileen signed. " _Especially after being alone for so long._ _Your family is_ our _family. I don't want normal. I want you._ "

"Get a room!" she could see Dean shout out of the corner of her eye as she kissed Sam again.

"Don't mind if we do," she snarked back, taking Sam's hand and leading him out of the library. The family and the ring and the celebration could wait for tomorrow. Right now, she wanted to focus on what really mattered: her new fiance.

* * *

A/N: If it wasn't obvious, I recently got engaged. I'll keep writing when I can, but life is a chaotic mess of wedding planning right now. Thanks for reading/reviewing!


End file.
